2.0 and I have been living in our house for over five years now. We bought it after we’d been together for about six months, which proves that drooling on your own pants on your second date is the best way to snag the man of your dreams. We’d only been in the house for a few weeks when 2.0 shared the following information.
2.0: Bad news… (closing the front door behind him)
2.0: The house.
movita: Our house?
2.0: Yes. But I’m not sure if I should tell you. You might want to move.
movita: I hate packing.
2.0: I know, but I really don’t think you’re going to like this.
I imagine our water system is contaminated with arsenic or the neighbourhood has been taken over by vicious child gangs.
movita: Just tell me. I’m ready.
2.0: We moved into a baby factory.
2.0: Ed told me.
movita: Told you what?
2.0: That we moved into a baby factory.
2.0: The whole neighbourhood is watching you. Ed and Ida talk about it all the time. They figure we’ll be having a baby in no time. This place? This place is a baby factory.
movita: Did you tell Ed that my uterus has dried up?
Ed was a retired fellow living next door with his wife, Ida. He liked to tell 2.0 about the history of our house and new neighbourhood. Ed insisted that our house had some sort of magical baby producing powers, and provided the following evidence/timeline as he chatted with 2.0 over the fence:
1. The first owner of our house (over 60 years ago) was a single woman. She “took up” with “some man,” had multiple children, and was forced to move to a larger home in order to accommodate her litter.
2. A famous sports dude moves in with his wife, adds an en suite bathroom, spawns three children and has to move into a bigger house. (Because of the reproducing.)
3. Next, a child-free couple moves into the house. They do some gardening and pop out a couple of kids. They have to move to a larger home because children aren’t supposed to sleep stacked on top of one another.
4. 2.0 and I move in. One of us has a uterus.
The next day, 2.0 is removing the door that leads down to our basement, leaving an opening that drops 10 feet to a concrete floor. We figure it will discourage people from bringing their children to visit us.
2.0: (sighing) We’ll probably have to put this door back on when we have the baby.
movita: I’ll start packing.